The Star Stone
by Lerolain
Summary: Fic from Garrett's perspective. A simple job to earn some rent goes bad, very bad. Rated for spooks.
1. A Bad Job

I don't own Garrett, the concept ofThief, or anything you recognise in this story.

* * *

I'm sitting on the wall top of a mansion on the outskirts of the City. You know the sort of place. It's just far enough away from the stink of the Docks, but close enough to avoid the common farms in the proper countryside. The sun has just gone down, so I've got all night for this little jaunt.

There's a guard right below me. From his pose I'd guess he's asleep. He's leaning on the wall, hasn't moved for thirty minutes. There's a jug by his feet. Why do they make it so easy?

I leap down, land silently, and cross the courtyard. There's a grand entranceway ahead but I ignore it. That's the way they expect you to go in these days. I'd bet my last coin the hall beyond is full of guards.

I hug the shadows along the house wall. Somewhere around here there must be another way in. I keep close to the shadows and explore.

Let me tell you why I'm here. Perry got word of a merchant who'd brought back some strange artefacts from his last voyage. The Keepers were sniffing all over them, thinking they might be worth something. They finally let him get into the City with his stuff, and he came straight here.

Perry also said if I could get my hands on one particular item among the stash he could get me a good price for it. The rent is due again, and I'm halfway down my last purse. At least I won't jingle and give myself away. Normally I wouldn't touch anything the Keepers are interested in, but I'm desperate.

I'm looking for something called 'The Star Stone'. Trust the Keepers to want something with such a grand and yet unimaginative name as that. Perry's source says I'll recognise it as soon as I see it. But let's be honest. As long as I get a good price for it I don't care what it's called.

I find an open window. It's on the first floor, but there's a tree growing near and it's the work of a moment to climb in and snuff out the two candles on the table. It takes my eye a moment to adapt to the darkness beyond the shaft of moonlight but my mechanical eye helps me. In a few seconds it's clear as day in here to me.

I'm in some kind of study. The table has three books open on it, and a pile of papers where somebody has been making notes. I leaf through. It can't hurt to look, can it? But the papers are covered in Keeper Glyphs, strange ones I'm not familiar with. It makes my nose itch to look at them, so I drop the papers again. I help myself to the pen – it's rosewood inlaid with gold designs. Very nice, very expensive. The books are in a language I can't read so I ignore them too.

The door out of the room is open just a crack. I put my mechanical eye to it. Beyond is a library. It's well lit and I can hear voices, close to me. I trust to my equipment – I paid enough for it – and roll a spying orb into the room beyond.

The double vision is nauseating but I fight the urge to vomit.

Through the orb I see a network of bookshelves, all well lit, but no people anywhere. I leave the relative safety of this dark room and step out. The voices are coming from somewhere ahead.

I pick up my orb. The lens is cracked. Serves me right for going for the cheaper option.

Pressing myself up against the shelves I edge closer to the voices. Before me the shelves give way to a large square area with a table in the centre. Four Keepers are poring over some large papers. I can't quite make them out, but they look like maps.

Artemus is there with three others that I don't recognise. One is a slim woman and the other two are slightly overweight and balding men who could be twins. They aren't talking, and I can smell the tension between them.

A man enters directly across from me. Carefully I ease myself as far out of sight as I can. Not too quickly though, as the eye is drawn to sharp movements. This man is dressed gaudily. He has a finely waxed moustache and his black hair is drawn back in a tight ponytail. He has the look of a merchant, and the rolling gait of a sailor recently back from sea. I suspect this is the man I've come to relieve of his possessions.

'Keeper Artemus, greetings.' His voice is as oily as his hair. 'Have you looked over my wares?'

'I have.' Artemus speaks in that cold voice he reserves for non-Keepers.

'Did anything catch your eye?'

'Tell me, did you put ashore on Carenole?' Artemus is glaring at the merchant pointedly.

'Well, it's forbidden.' The merchant starts to sweat.

'I know it is,' snaps Artemus. 'Did you?'

'My ship needed water and supplies. We had to stop.'

'You took these things from the Keeper Temple there.'

Carenole? I never heard of the place when I lived with the Keepers. I thought I knew all the Keeper Temples, just so I could avoid them.

'Good Keeper, I assure you I did not.'

'Then someone on your crew did. Do not presume to bandy words with me, man, I know when you are lying.' I haven't seen Artemus this angry for a long time.

'Will you offer me a fair price for them?'

Artemus turns almost purple with rage. 'A fair price? By rights these artefacts belong to Keepers. You are lucky I do not charge you with trespass. I always knew you were a common thief and a highway robber, but I never thought to see you sink so low as to steal from Keepers.'

There's fear in the man's eyes now, and he takes a step back. 'Of course, good Keeper. Naturally you must take what you will. If you need any assistance unpacking the crates in the attic I will be most happy to help.' The coward backs from the room, almost running. I didn't think Artemus had it in him to be so intimidating. Whatever the merchant took, and whatever Carenole is, they must be very important to the Keepers.

I want to take a look at these crates in the attic before Artemus does. I don't want to chance them finding the Star Stone before I do. It can't be as important to them as it is to me.

I leave the library, creeping back towards a dark corridor. I follow it through until I reach a great open hall. There's a stairway ahead, a great grand affair. It's not well lit, and I decide to chance it. Time is of the essence.

I take the filigreed gold candlesticks from every alcove on the way up. No sense leaving them to gather dust here.

The stairway opens into a hall. It's the smart area of the house. I curse under my breath. I'm not going to find the way to the attic here. There's a servants' door at the end of the hall, concealed so the rich don't have to see the people who wait on them. I spot it right away and let myself in.

It's dark within. I feel a bit more confident with every minute I spend in this house. The servants' area would be lit all night long if anybody was in the house except my friends downstairs. I saunter upwards casually. There's never anything to steal in these narrow servant corridors.

After a few flights the stairs end in a doorway ahead. I open it and look through. There are lots of crates here, covered in white sheets. I step through the door. This is almost too easy.

Three steps into the room and I feel someone in my head with me. She's just watching right now. How did she get in so easily? How long has she been there? Normally when the Keepers try to spy on me I can avoid them, but this person has just waltzed right in.

I don't mind admitting I'm unsettled. I've stopped just inside the room, unsure of what to do next. Should I wait and see if this visitor leaves? I want to throw her out but I can't seem to focus on where she is. If you don't know, having someone in your head feels like a hand on your shoulder. You can grip it and throw it off if you concentrate the right way. But whoever this is, she's an expert. Her touch is a breeze on the back of my neck and I can't push her away.

Should I wait for her to go? Or should I carry on hunting for the Star Stone?

As I think this, she moves. I feel her jump as if startled, rearing like a startled horse. _The Star Stone?_ It's her thought, echoing mine. _No!_

There's white hot pain in my head. Something hits me in the face. Through my mechanical eye I see floorboard. It comes to me that I've fallen just before I pass into nothing.


	2. A Bad Job Gets Worse

Please review, especially if you think there's something I could improve.

Once again, anything you recognise isn't mine. Alas.

Some of the extra line spaces I put in the last chapter to denote a larger breakappeared as only one line. Next time I'll put some stars, or something.

* * *

I come round slowly. I'm too warm. A fire blazes uncomfortably close in front of me. Sweat drips down my face. The flickering firelight, coupled with the pain in my head, makes me feel sick. I try to move, to look anywhere but at the flames. I can't. My hands are tied, bent around the back of the chair. 

Somewhere behind me the Keepers who were downstairs are arguing. As the fog in my head clears I can make out what they're saying.

'… need that Stone!' That's the woman. She's shrill with rage.

'You don't have to tell me again.' This voice is Artemus. The others sound angry but he's worried.

'He must have hidden it somewhere.'

'He wasn't in the room long enough. She knocked him out before he even knew where it was.'

'Someone took it. If it wasn't the Master Thief, who was it?' Sarcasm drips heavily from Artemus' words.

'I don't know. The straw around it was burned, and the crate was nailed shut, like it had never been opened. It just doesn't make sense.'

'He didn't take it.' This is a new voice. It's a young woman. She sounds like she's been drugged. Her voice is high pitched and singsong and disturbingly familiar. Maybe she got hit on the head too.

'Who did?' Artemus makes his voice gentle. I hear movement and a noise as he sits on something.

'It was taken into Second Level,' says the girl.

The Keepers make shocked noises. 'Impossible!'

'Nobody in the City has that kind of power.'

'It's too unsafe.'

I crane my head for a better look. I can make out a bed, with some bare feet at the end. Artemus, sitting on the side, blocks my view of the occupant.

'He's awake,' says the girl. She must have exceptional hearing.

The Keepers crowd round me.

'What are you doing here?' asks Artemus. As if he needs to ask. Why do I ever go anywhere?

'Why should I tell you?' My words are slurred. The effort of talking worsens the pain in my head again but I grit my teeth against it. You need all your wits about you when you deal with Keepers.

Artemus is about to reply when the female Keeper grips his arm.

'Every second takes the Stone further from us. We need his help.' She hisses like an angry cat.

Artemus scowls. He doesn't like being told what to do.

'I need to hire you, Garrett,' he says. 'I need you to steal something for me.'

I stay silent. I don't know where this is going but I know I won't like it.

'We need the Star Stone.' He stands aside and I can see the girl lying on the bed. She's wearing the dress of a Keeper apprentice. It's stained and creased. She's around seventeen, pale ash blonde hair that needs washing and almost white skin with a bluish tinge. She looks unhealthy. Is the Star Stone some kind of magical healer? If so, I could do with it myself.

'This is Caern. She's one of us, as I'm sure you can see. She's in danger, and she needs the Star Stone. If she doesn't get it, she will die.'

'Why is this Stone so special?' I ask. Maybe if I keep him talking I can get my hands loose. The rope in my wrists is soft. It feels like the cord used to tie back curtains.

'I suppose I'd better tell you the whole story.' Artemus takes a breath to begin but the female Keeper interrupts him.

'We don't have time for this!'

'If I don't explain it to him, he won't help us on principle. Keep quiet and let me tell this story.

'As you know, Garrett' – he appears calm but I can tell how badly he wants this over with – 'Keepers create glyphs which they can use for almost any purpose. But to create a glyph requires a great deal of power, the raising of which can be quite hard to master. Once an apprentice reaches a certain level they are taught how to create glyphs. I believe you left us before you reached this stage of your training.

'But it isn't always easy. In the vast majority of apprentices, the process of raising power is controlled by the conscious mind. But occasionally, one comes along who cannot stop raising power, one whose subconscious is in control. Over time they draw so much they become charged with it. Left unchecked the power would eventually burst out of them. The release could level a whole section of the city. Usually these unfortunates are identified and die quickly.'

This doesn't quite add up, but I don't comment.

'Caern has this flaw. We were all resigned to the fact that one day soon her power would grow too much and she would have to die. But then we heard that a Star Stone had been discovered.

'We could use a Star Stone to drain power from Caern, allowing her to live far longer. But the Stone has been taken.'

'It went into Second Level,' says Caern. Her voice is more urgent now, and stronger. Sounds like she's coming around too. Putting this together what Artemus has just told me, my tired brain realises that she's the one who got inside my head. It's not a surprise any more that she did it so expertly, considering how much Keeper power she could have inside her.

'Please,' she takes Artemus' hand. 'Let me go after it. There's no point sending the thief. He'd be lost in Second Level. I can follow the Stone, find out where it's gone. I'm the only one who can get it back.'

I agree, but not aloud. Sounds like they need a magician, not a thief.

Artemus scowls. 'We can't risk you.'

Even semi conscious, I can see the flaw in that logic. If she's going to die anyway, why not let her take the risk? There's something not right here.

'Fine,' she says. She sounds like a spoilt child just told she can't have a new doll. 'I'll send him in.'

I have a sensation that I'm falling back through the chair, and then I land on my backside. Quickly I look about. This new room is a copy of the room where the Keepers are, but here I am alone. I hear a noise and look up.

Above me I can see the Keepers looking at me through a hole in the ceiling. They tower over me like giants. The edges of the hole are insubstantial. When I try to focus on them they writhe away. They begin to draw together as though pulled by a drawstring.

Artemus throws something through before the hole closes. It lands with a clink beside me. He looks apologetic. 'To help with your rent,' he says. There's a cry from one of the other Keepers and he turns back. I manage to make out the words 'She's gone' before the portal vanishes.

I want to curse, but when I feel the weight of the purse Artemus threw me I bite it back. If I get out of here alive I've got enough to keep me for at least four months. If I get out of here alive at all.

There's only one door out of this room, so I take it. I don't have much idea what to do, but I have one lead. The room the Star Stone was stolen from is the only place that might hold a clue.

'You're right.' I spin around.

Coming from the room I have just left is a woman. It takes me a couple of heartbeats to realise it's the Keeper apprentice. I start to laugh. She's wearing exact copies of my clothes. Her left eye glows green in the shadow of her brow. She's copied my mechanical eye.

'What are you laughing at?' she snaps. ' If it's good enough for you it'll do for me.'

'Can you get me out of here?' I ask. After the terrible start to the evening so far there's only one answer I want to hear.

'You do something for me and I'll do something for you. I need that Stone and if you don't help me find it I'll leave you here forever.'

That wasn't it. I grab her wrist hard. She cries out but I don't loosen my hold. 'Wrong answer. I'm leaving. Now.'

She draws her head back and spits in my face. I hate Keepers.

'We're going upstairs' – no sooner has she said it than we're in the attic room. There's no sense of movement, no lights or portals. She simply says it and we're there – 'Let's get to work.'

I can see the crate the Star Stone was in. Here, unlike the first time I saw it, the lid is off. Straw is scattered on the floor. Some amateur thieves just don't know how to do a neat and precise job. From where it was runs a silver thread. It's faint, like a moonbeam. She sees it and lets out a whoop of joy.

'Ha! Amateurs!' she cries. 'This should be easy!' She sets off down the stairs at a run. I jog to keep up. I hope this place is as empty here as it was in the real world.

We make the City streets without slowing and head for the Docks. I'm starting to feel the strain of this running but she isn't even breathing hard. How is she doing this? She stops unexpectedly on a corner and I run into her back.

'Shut up,' she whispers. I open my mouth to tell her where to go but a sound cuts me off. There's something around the corner, and it's got a tread heavier than a guard going to work. It snorts like a horse and I press myself into the shadows.

'This place is full of them.' She's looking round the corner but her voice sounds as though her mouth is right next to my ear. 'Dark sorcerers use this place to draw power for their spells, and they create those things as guards.'

I peek round the corner too. Facing away from us a hulking shape, indistinct in the shadows. I can make out enough to know we're finding another way. It's as tall as a rearing bear and half again as wide. The top half of its back is wet fur but its legs are scaled and silvery. A long tail hangs in the air behind it, flicking back and forth like a snake. Steaming breath wreathes around. I can't see its face. I pull back.

'The trail goes that way, past that thing,' she says. 'If we leave it now to find another way we might not pick it up again.'

'Can't you magic us past it?' If ever there was a time her tricks would be useful, it's now.

'Afraid not. They're sensitive to power. It would be on us in an instant.'

I search my pockets until I find my last flash bomb. 'Ready to run?'

'Wait!' She snatches it off me and the bomb shimmers. In the street beyond the creature growls and I hear it move this way.

'Now!' I cry.

I throw the bomb into the street and pull back so I'm not blinded too. But instead of the expected flash there's a noise like lightening striking and a wave of hot air. The creature screams like a pig and the acrid stink of burning fur makes us choke.

Neither of us run. She must have known what was going to happen. I'm so surprised I stay where I am. This woman is going to get me killed if I keep slipping up like that.

She saunters out into the street, past the smoking heap of flesh. She seems casual but she gives it a wide berth and doesn't look at it. I can't help myself. I have to look. When I get near it I think she had the right idea. Whatever she did to my flash bomb turned the creature inside out. Steaming guts quiver at my feet. I hurry on, swallowing hard.

We enter South Quarter. I look longingly at my apartment but I don't let her see me do it. I don't want her turning up on my doorstep when this is all over.

She pauses by the fountain. The silver line loops around the stone bowl several times. I don't like this, so close to my home. There's a sharp metallic tang in the air. I look closer. The fountain is full of blood. Glowing shapes like twisted glyphs are barely visible beneath the surface. Caern peers in.

'A spell was worked here. Someone was brought into Second Level and was sacrificed.' She shudders. 'We're definitely tailing a sorcerer. He's trying to stop us following.'

'Urrrrgggnnnnnhhhhh…' The sound tails off and I hear raspy breathing and a limping, dragging step and smell the sweet tang of rot.

'Zombie!' She cries. 'He must have been left as a trap!'

The zombie rounds the corner. He skin is shrunken, dry parchment stretched across bones visible through torn holes. One eye is gone. I notice he's wearing black gauntlets inscribed with symbols. They are out of place, new and whole, unlike their wearer.

'He rotted quickly.' I say. I know it's a strange thing to notice, but it's better to think about that than to realise I have no holy water, no more flash bombs, no oil and no fire arrows.

When you are unarmed and faced with a zombie the best thing is to run. They can't keep up with a running man. I turn and flee in the direction of the Docks without a word of warning, thinking that it will take him even longer to catch me if he catches Caern first.

I know what you're thinking. I'm a coward. I just left a lady in the path of a zombie alone and unarmed, hoping she would slow him down. What sort of despicable lowlife would do that? But I don't care. If she can't watch out for herself she shouldn't be here. That's the law of the streets. I know these aren't ordinary streets, but here the rules are even more important.

Behind me I hear the quick patter of Caern's footfalls following me. I remember I need her to get back to reality and I am relieved.

By the time we reach the Docks gate we've left the zombie far behind. We run in. It seems strange to be here and unable to see a single soul. The Docks is usually full of life. There's always a whore on the corner and a sailor throwing up in a doorway or using it as a toilet. But we are the only people in sight.

The silver trail turns right and quickly left, down a narrow alley.

The Docks are deadly silent, but the smell here is as strong as ever. Briny salt air battles with the sharp tang of emptied chamber pots and leather tanning. Behind me Caern gags and coughs.

'Don't come here often?' I say.

'No,' she croaks. I chuckle to myself. I need something to laugh at tonight.

A wooden door blocks the trail. I put out a hand to open it but the Keeper snatches it away.

'You can't go in there. Can't you feel it?'

I shake my head. I wish she'd be more specific.

'Instead of having a reflection here, this house is in our Level and Second Level at the same time. A sorcerer lives here, and for the house to be here this solidly he must be within right now. If he knows you're coming he'll be ready and you'll be dead before you know it. You have to leave.'

I can feel that last part well enough. 'So I could get back through there?'

'If his minions didn't get you first. I know you think you're a master of avoidance and stealth and so on, but you aren't ready for what you might find in there.'

I've had enough of this woman. She lets herself into my head without asking, knocks me unconscious, sends me into another world, talks to me as though I'm completely ignorant and now she insults my professional skills.

'Goodbye Garrett,' she says. 'Thank you for your help.' She hands me a purse. I would tell her that Artemus already paid me, but I feel I've earned this. She puts a hand on my chest and pushes me. Hard. Taken unawares I fall backwards.

I land on my own bed. It takes me a second or so to realise that's where I am but there's my wanted poster staring down at me, and there's the candlestick on my table I took as a memento from the Keepers when I left. Undoubtedly, I'm home

I'm relieved to be home but I am troubled. Artemus was behaving oddly, even more so than usual. I know he wasn't telling me the whole truth.

How did Caern know where I lived? And why did she disobey Artemus by following me into Second Level? No Keeper apprentice disobeys Artemus. When she first appeared she replied to something I had only thought, but she hadn't intruded on me the way she did before.

I take off my cloak and boots, and store my equipment away. I sort out enough money to pay three months of rent and put it in a separate purse. It never pays to let the landlord know how much money I have. He might decide this place is worth more than I currently pay.

The night is warm, so I take off my shirt and hang it over the end of the bed. I lie down, pull my blanket up to my waist and close my eyes.

My last thought is of the Star Stone. If I can steal it I can sell it to Perry's buyer and make even more money out of this.

Tomorrow night I'm going back to the Docks.


	3. In The Sorcerer's House

Thank you to the kind people who have reviewed this and also to my beta reader for spotting the silly mistakes.

Please review, and please be critical as well as complimentary. Tell me what I'm doing wrong!

I don't own Garrett. I think of him as owning himself.

* * *

I wake just before the sun sets. Golden light streams through my window. I sit up and rub the sleep from my eyes.

I eat some breakfast, bread and cold meat, and I dress. I remember I am running low on equipment. Before I go to the Docks I need to pay Perry a visit.

The sun has just set as I venture out. The sky to the west is still pale blue, the clouds bruised purple and gold, but the streets are dark enough for me to pass unnoticed. I make my way to Perry's shop.

He looks up as I enter and nods his head in greeting. Perry sells the best equipment in town, but he makes most of his money fencing goods. Every time I come into the shop he's selling less and fencing more.

I spend the money Artemus gave me on everything I think I'll need. To be honest, that's not much. The house in the Docks was two storeys high and narrow. I can probably be in and out again in five minutes.

Once my gear is stowed in my cloak pockets I take to the streets again.

Summer is on its way and the nights are getting shorter and warmer. It's both a good and a bad time for a thief. More people out enjoying the warmer evenings means more empty homes, but the shorter nights mean less time to take advantage. After I'm done in the Docks I'll take a stroll into the richer the areas of the City and see what opportunities present themselves.

I enter the Docks. The streets are busy here and I follow a crowd to the end of the alley and slip in. The guard down the street doesn't see me. I listen at the house door. All is quiet beyond.

I pick the lock easily and let myself in.

I'm expecting a small kitchen, or a little entrance hall, or to walk straight into a living room. I'm not expecting to look down a vast hallway, many times longer and taller than the house is outside. I look twice.

This is going to take longer than I thought.

The house is obviously the realm of a sorcerer. It isn't just the scale of the place that gives it away. The heads of strange beasts, the likes of which I have never seen before, hang on the walls. Paintings so detailed they look like windows into frozen real life hang on the walls. A thick mist covers the floor, ankle deep. It writhes like a living thing, but the breeze from the open door does not disturb it.

Shadowed alcoves line the wall. To my left are some double glass doors, and ahead is a stairway. A small door leads out to the right.

I creep from alcove to alcove, staying in the shadows. I don't know where the Stone will be, so I set out to systematically search the house.

I take the door on the right.

Four featureless rooms later I've found nothing worth stealing and am wondering if tonight is going to be as profitable as I thought.

I reach a corridor that can only be servants' quarters. Eight tiny rooms lead from a narrow corridor. I open each door in turn. There is no sign of people living here, no small personal trinkets or discarded clothes. Even the beds are made neatly, uniformly, with no wrinkles in the faded coverlets.

The mist snakes around my ankles. Out of the corner of my eye I can make out strange moving lumps, things moving under the mist, but when I turn my head they flatten. If that's the worst thing I come across while I am here I'll count it an easy night's work.

Beyond the servants' quarters are two storerooms and a large kitchen. The storerooms are almost empty, but at the kitchen door I pause. A woman stands facing away from me. She methodically cuts something I can't see. She wears a baggy shapeless maid's dress. Her hair is tied in a rough tail. Wisps have escaped and stick out at angles. The fire beyond lights them in a ring of gold around her head.

I watch her closely. She moves away from the bench to a cupboard and I get my first look at her face.

I grimace. Her skin is grey and taut over prominent cheekbones and hollow cheeks. Her eyes are blank, staring absently at nothing. A dirty bandage is wrapped around her neck. Across the front are rusty bloodstains. She looks dead, or close to it. Rather than chance being unable to knock her out I creep past while her back is turned.

This next room seems more promising. A long table is littered with books. Jewel encrusted squat candlesticks light the room. I pinch out the candles and pocket the sticks, leaving just one lit casting enough light to read by.

I leaf through a few books. They seem to be books of spells, in a small curling hand I have to squint to read. I pick up a large tome. Two pages of the almost illegible writing make me put it back but a name catches my eye.

'Star Stone…'

I sit at the table and hold the candle close to the page. This book is a journal. I start at the beginning of the entry that mentions the Stone.

_'I beached on Carenole late in the day. I could not restrain myself from beginning the search and went straight to the ruins. Isit here now as the sun goes down, trying to decide which passage to look in first. I may have to wait until the constructs have built the camp and summon one with a torch. I would not want to walk past the Star Stone in the dark._

_'I have searched twenty tunnels or more and found nothing. Curse it all! Soon I will be forced to admit that it is not here at all. How can so many sources be wrong? Perhaps it was here in the past and has been found.'_

I turn a few more pages.

_'Back in the City four days now. I am trying to console myself, but finding the resting place of a Star Stone was my life's work, and now I am back at the beginning again._

_'Word came today that a merchant put ashore at Carenole and brought back Keeper Artefacts. How can this be? I saw no sign that he had been there before me. If he was there afterwards, how did he find what I did not? Perhaps he has not got the Star Stone at all. Tonight I will search in Second Level and see what I can find. I need to get my hands on it before the Keepers do. Who knows what power I could wield with that Stone? Yet they would put it in a library and let it gather dust.'_

This is the last entry. I put the book down. The other books seem to be more spellbooks and I leave them well alone.

If I had any doubts the Stone was here they are gone now. I make my way through an empty ballroom with an impossibly big glass ceiling and enter the Hall again. The sorcerer must keep his chambers upstairs.

I climb the stairs, keeping to the walls. I enter a hallway. It leads onto an open balcony. Above, around and below is starry night sky, as if nothing else existed in all the world but this circle of stone. I look over the edge, expecting to see the roof of the level below. Nothing is there but stars. I pull back, dizzied.

And I see it. Coming out of one of the two doors in the hallway is a great creature, half machine and half man. I hear the wheeze of pistons powering its legs, smell the foetid dead flesh. Its eyes glow blue in dark hollows. It is around seven feet tall, but it is out of proportion, and though whoever built it knew only roughly what a man should look like. Its limbs are too long, spindly metal arms ending in human hands hanging past its knees. Its torso is short and square, as deep as it is tall and wide. It whirrs and clicks as it walks.

I freeze. I'm covered by shadow but the slightest movement could attract its attention. And somehow it doesn't see me, just carries on through the opposite door. As the door closes behind it all sound of its passing is muffled. I breathe a sigh of relief, but know my job is harder now. As with the woman downstairs, I don't know how to put it out of action and have no time or leisure to experiment. I have to avoid it and hope it follows a set path.

The sudden appearance of this creation has set my heart hammering and I wait until I am calm again before I move. It is one thing creeping past human guards and servants but another to be faced with opponents like that. However, I don't feel the urge to leave. Tonight it is more important than ever to prove my professional quality.

I open the door the construct left through. The room beyond is dark and silent. It has moved on. I close the door behind me.

Low tables line the walls. Several items catch my eye and I move closer to inspect them. But as I reach out my hand to take a golden curved dagger my mechanical eye catches a heat haze shimmer in the air around the table.

I snatch my hand away. Taking a few steps back I string an arrow to my bow, and fire at the table. There is a flash of brilliant light. When I can see clearly again the items beyond are unscathed and my arrow is gone. I shrug and turn away. No use stealing something you won't be alive to sell.

In the next room are racks of clothes. The space is twice as large as my apartment and packed full off clothes. Strong smelling lavender pouches make my nose itch. The space between each rail is barely as wide as my shoulders. I walk down the aisle, inspecting the clothes. They are all expensive, but very bulky and I would be hindered if I tried to steal any of them. As a consolation I take two large diamond brooches from the neck of a purple velvet robe.

The door behind me opens and the construct enters. I drop to the floor, lying on my stomach, and crawl to the nearest wall. The construct walks down the centre aisle, through an archway at the opposite end of the room, and is gone. I breathe again.

The room it went into is far too well lit for my tastes. A fire blazes in the hearth and six torches illuminate the edges of the room. A great four poster bed dominates the centre of the room. The heavy curtains are drawn back, revealing a scarlet covered bed heaped with pillows. It could sleep four people comfortably. The room is dotted with antique furniture. If I could carry it all out of here I could make a fortune.

I douse the torches and make a tour of the room, looking in drawers and cupboards for any valuables. I'm careful before I touch anything to pause and see if I can see the protective shimmer, but there's nothing here. I earn myself a month of good food. I won't be too disappointed if the Star Stone isn't here. Tonight has been profitable enough after all.

The construct enters. I press myself against the wall until it wheezes out again.

The room beyond the bedroom is a vast library. Shelves creaking under the weight of huge books fill the room, stretching to the ceiling many feet above. Between the shelves ahead of me I can just make out a table with two open books. Alone in the expanse of dark blue cloth they draw my eye. The construct will be back soon, so I pick up the books and crouch between two bookcases to read them. The first is a continuation of the journal downstairs, hurriedly scrawled in an otherwise blank book.

_'I have the Stone, and I realise my mistake. The Stone itself is powerless, just a rock, without a Keeper to charge it. And so the pieces of this puzzle come together and I realise why the Keepers want it so badly. They have an apprentice unable to stop raising power. She is the true source of the Stone's wealth.'_

I could have told him that.

_'To have the power I have dreamed of, and indeed far more than I have previously been able to imagine, I need the girl. I can use her to draw a limitless supply of magic. Perhaps here lies the key to the immortality I have always craved. If this is not the key then my last chance is surely gone. Time grows short as I grow older. I need that girl.'_

So, the sorcerer wants both Caern and the Star Stone. Well, he'll have to make do with just the girl. If he needs the Stone so badly he can afford to pay a good price for it.

The second book is about the Stone itself. It tells of a great white rock falling from the sky and flattening a Keeper Temple. The surviving Keepers broke it in to small pieces and tried to bury it beneath a glyph. But they found that when the power touched the stone pieces they began to glow. The Keepers quickly realised the value of what they had found. They named the pieces 'Star Stones' because they fell from the stars.

I knew it would be something imaginative like that. I hope the existence of more than one doesn't drive down the price, although the market's hardly flooded. I put the books back where I found them on the table and move on.

The next room is the largest I have been in so far, so large that it could not be built in the real world. The opposite wall stretches out of sight, invisible in the hazy air. About thirty paces from me is a marble altar, white veins of quartz running through pure black. Fat brass censers sit at each corner of the altar, billowing out winding coils of smoke. Around the near edges of the room it is dark but I can make out shadowy shapes, stone gargoyles and heavily carved bookcases. But all this is in my peripheral vision. On the altar is a white stone and my eye is drawn straight to it. It glows, casting a circle of pale radiance around it. I walk to it, take it in my hands. It hums, vibrating gently on my skin. I hide it in the folds of my cloak, dousing its light.

I feel wind on my face, smell the all too familiar reek of the Docks, and look up. On the wall next to the door I came through is a window. Through it I can see the rooftops of the City. I walk closer and look down. Below me is a sloping roof, a long drop and street level. The tiles are slick with rainwater and algae. Rather than risk climbing down I turn to take the stairs. Another door leads of out this room and if my sense of direction has not been confused by this strange place it should lead me to the stairway.

And I realise my mistake. I have lingered too long in here. The construct has come up behind me. It stands in the doorway to the library, eyes blinking. We stare at each other. Its eyes take on a red glow, intensifying steadily.

I leap sideways just as the red beam fires from its eyes. It barely misses me. A wave of blistering air follows in its wake. The construct runs unsteadily to the door I was heading for, cutting me off and blocking my escape. Cursing, I run back the way I came.

I collide with a second construct. It slashes at me with its forearms, cutting my face and chest. Hot pain sears and blood trickles into my mouth and eyes. I push it with all the strength I can muster and it falls back, limbs waving in the air like an upturned beetle. I leap over it. I feel resistance as it grabs my cloak. Cloth tears and I stumble forward with my own momentum but am quickly running again.

I run back the way I came to the top of the stairs. I take them quickly, careless of whether I might fall or how much noise I am making. As I reach the bottom I hear wheezing above. I glance back and see both constructs there.

I weave across the hallway floor, trying not to present them with an easy target. I hear the hiss of scorching air and beams strike around me, burning off the mist in patches. Pain lances through my leg and I falter, reaching out to grab at the door handle.

I fall out of the door and limp for the gates to South Quarter. Only as I reach them do I risk a glance behind me. The street is empty.

I creep back to my apartment. I was in the sorcerer's house longer than I thought and dawn is breaking over the horizon. The streets are busy with early workers. I wipe the worst of the blood from my face so that I don't stand out, and I try not to limp too much.

Once in my apartment I peel off my cloak and throw it on the table. I put my equipment and everything in my pockets beside it, then put the cloak over them.

Wincing and swearing, I take off my shirt. Drying blood has stuck it to my chest and it tears at my wounds agonisingly. I bring the pail of water the landlord has left outside and clean off the worst of the blood. A dull trickle oozes from the scratches but it soon stops. I look at myself in the mirror ruefully. A pretty face is not a requirement for a thief, fortunately.

I put on a clean shirt and carefully roll down my leggings. My thigh throbs dully. I fear the worst but the wound is shallow and cauterised. Whatever that construct shot at me sealed the gash instantly. There is a burnt hole in my leggings. I throw them on my pile of clothes to mend and put some whole ones on. I sit back in my chair, tired but still too full of adrenaline to go to sleep.

A few minutes later the door opens. I leap to my feet, expecting to see the constructs, but instead Artemus walks in.

'You've got it,' he says. It isn't a question.

I nod.

'I need that Stone, Garrett.'

'I need to eat.'

He laughs mirthlessly. 'So you want to play it that way.'

I lift up the corner of my cloak on the table, revealing the Star Stone beneath. It illuminates Artemus licking his lips. Show a man what he's bargaining for and he'll let greed get in the way.

'Tell me what you want for it. Name your price.'

I raise an eyebrow. 'Any price?'

'Yes, damn you, Garrett. Any price. You can have free run of the City. We'll teach you glyphs that will hide you from all but the most powerful Keepers. I'll give you your own bodyweight in gold. Just give me the Stone!' He's shouting, and pauses to wipe spittle from his lips.

I allow myself a small smile. You should never show emotion when bargaining but I can't help myself. Any price?

I think hard. What is it that I want the most?

Artemus scowls. The air around me shimmers and warms. I am sucked backwards, through my floor and into Second Level. Above I see Artemus smile. He waves the Stone at me triumphantly and is gone.


	4. Intrusion

Thank you to everybody who's reviewed so far, you're all lovely people!

* * *

I punch the floor beside me in frustration, something I instantly regret as pain flares in my hand.

'Temper, temper.' I turn and see Caern standing over me. She's wearing her Keeper robe. Red tear tracks stain her cheeks.

'Do you know what you just cost me?' I leap to my feet, raging.

'Never mind that.' She sniffs and breaks down. Although I try to keep my anger burning she cries so long that it fades. I sit on the ghostly table and wait for her to cry herself out.

After an age she stops. 'I overheard Artemus talking about me. He said that once they have the Star Stone they will be able to use me as a source of power in complicated glyph spells, spells they think might be possible but have never been able to perform before. They said I mustn't be allowed to leave the compound as I am too valuable. I don't want to be a prisoner all my life. They told me once I had the Star Stone I would be free and could do what I wanted. I've run away. I'll find the Stone myself and the Keepers can rot in the Eight Hells.'

I have to laugh. The irony is just too much. 'You kidnapped the wrong person. Artemus was in my apartment. We were bargaining for the Stone just as you pulled me here.'

Hope lights her face. 'You have it?'

I have to disappoint her. 'No. I left it on the table. Artemus has it now. You'll have to slink back to him and hope he forgives you for running away.'

She closes her eyes, utterly defeated. 'If I do, he'll never let me go. If I stay away I'll die, and cause so much destruction in passing that many others will die too. I have no choice.'

For the briefest second I pity her. I remember only too well what it was like to have the Keepers dictate my every move. But I can't afford such feelings and I squash it.

She looks up at me. Her red face has a blue tinge to it. She frowns, looking down at herself.

'I feel strange,' she says. Her hair has a blue tint now. The air around her suddenly sparks with eldritch light. I step back toward the door. She reaches out a hand, stretching her arm an impossibly long way and digs her bitten fingernails into my shoulder.

'It's taking over!' she wails. I try to pull away but the air around me has hardened. I can't move.

The blue glow intensifies quickly. I close my eyes against the brilliant light. A wave of hot air blasts my face.

And then it's gone, dazzling radiance replaced by dull ambient glow. The air is cool, almost chill, and smelling of damp.

It is almost too strange for words. I am riding in Caern's head as she did to me, but I have no knowledge of where my own body is. And she is not the Caern I know, but a tiny girl, clutching her mother's hand as she's led through the Keeper Halls and presented to the Matron. We watch as Mother walks away, fat childish tears rolling down our cheeks.

The scene changes again and again as her life flashes before our eyes. We watch her blossom from the small girl abandoned in the hall to a confident apprentice with many friends, good at her studies and generally well liked. We sit through the first lesson in power raising and we feel the changes in her as the power swells uncontrollably. We watch her become a social pariah, treated as if she had the plague when the Keepers realise what is happening. Her friends avoid her, her teachers fear her and as we watch I feel her hatred for what she has become as if it was my own. All the while the power is growing, always taking form in new, unexpected and often dangerous ways.

As she grows we accept that she will die. She no longer fears it and often prays that the end will come as life gets steadily more unbearable. But then comes the rumour of the Star Stone. Our hopes are painfully dashed when we realise it has been taken. I see myself through her eyes, a threatening creature stealing her last chance at life. I feel her disdain of me turn to desperation, an overpowering need to have someone, anyone, help her.

After that it's my turn. She ploughs through my memories, unearthing all the times I thought buried and forgotten. I try to keep her from the most deeply buried things but she's a howling gale in my mind and I am powerless to fight her. Oh no… I don't want to live that again… I scrabble to push her away… anything but that look at anything but that… I can't fight you hard enough.

It is a winter night. We're in the heart of the City, by a canal. We remember the chill air on my skin and the steaming clouds my breath made, the way my breath collects as wet drops in the short beard I have grown to keep my face warm. I have an unconscious watchman on my shoulder. His armour digs in to my neck and I shift him carefully. I have to hide him somewhere out of sight. I hurry down some steps to water level, intending to put him on the ledge by the water's side.

Halfway down I slip. The steps are treacherously slick and green and my foot slips out from under me. I fall backward hard, crack my head on a step and crash through the thin skin of ice into the freezing water. I'm dazed and disorientated and the man slips from my shoulder as I panic. I start swimming. I can't tell which way is up. I don't know if I'm heading for the surface. When I finally emerge I'm almost out of air and I gasp in the icy air gratefully. Then I remember the watchman. I pull him out of the water, hauling his heavy body onto the side. He's already dead. With his armour to drag him down he never had a chance.

I expect her to shy away in revulsion, but she is not judgemental. She neither condemns me for the watchman's death nor tries to console me by explaining it away as an accident. I respect her for that. She knows it won't do any good now.

She observes our encounters from my point of view with amusement and a hint of humiliation she can't quite hide. I hear her chuckle, a warm sound, and I laugh too. The sound borders on hysteria.

The blue light comes again and I'm alone in my head once more. I have an empty second before blackness envelops me.

I wake slowly. The first coherent thought I have is that I'm being knocked unconscious far too often these days.

I become aware of pressure on my chest. When I recover enough to lift my aching head I look. I'm lying on the floor of my living room. Caern is sprawled there too, also out cold. Her head rests on my chest.

I struggle up on my elbows and sit forward massaging my temples. The pain is rapidly subsiding but there's a long way to go before it's bearable. As I sit straight she slumps down so that her head is in my lap. I move my leg, shake her off. Her head strikes the floor and I feel an unexpected pang of guilt.

The easiest and most sensible thing I could do would be to pick her up, carry her to a back alley a few streets away and dump her. She'd be found, robbed and killed before I even got home.

But I don't do this. I feel disgusted with myself for even thinking of it. It seems like a betrayal.

So instead I pick her up, cradling her in my arms instead of throwing her over my shoulder. I carry her into the bedroom and lay her on my bed. She doesn't stir. I check she's still breathing. She is.

I pull a chair close to the fire in the living room and sit down. I stare into the twining, dancing flames for a long time.

I hear her stir behind me. I turn around but she is still sleeping. It seems a more natural sleep now.

It isn't comfortable, sleeping in my chair, but I manage to doze fitfully. I wake in the evening as the sun's beginning to set. Caern still sleeps behind me.

Idly I take out my dagger and start carving slices from the arm of my chair. Firelight plays on the grimy blade. I've owned this dagger a long time. It was one of the first tools I bought, before I realised I am too good at what I do to need it. Since then it has stayed sheathed. Long nights spent getting wet and dirty have dulled the blade's sheen. This is probably the first time I have taken it out since I bought it. I have an oily rag somewhere. I root around in cupboards until I find it and start to polish the blade.

Once I have it shining again I put the point on my chair arm and spin the hilt between my finger and thumb. Reflected fire and sunlight makes ghostly patterns dance on the walls. As it turns I can see mirror images of the room around me. I still the dagger. The blade reflects Caern, lying on the bed.

After a few minutes she wakes. She sits up and rubs her eyes. Her head hurts too. She's moving carefully and trying not to make it worse. She sees that I'm awake and she walks over to sit on the rug in front of the fire. As she passes she rests her hand absently on my shoulder. I'm surprised at this but more surprised that I don't' flinch away.

She tucks her knees up under her chin and gazes at the fire. The light plays on her pale hair and white skin, rendering her a golden woman where before she was a wraith.

'I'm sorry,' she begins. She wants to say more but she bites it back.

'Don't be. It wasn't your fault,' I say. I know she's apologising for intruding on my mind again, and this isn't what I meant to say but I can't form the right words.

'I can't always control it,' she continues, as if I'd never said anything. 'It's like the sea. Sometimes it's battering the seawall and I cannot fight it, and sometimes it's far off, down the beach, and I feel almost normal again.' Unbidden I remember what life was like for her before. She looks up at me and smiles warmly. 'But then, you know that now.'

I nod. I'm not comfortable with the familiarity that she seems to think is acceptable now. I admit it is reassuring to know that one person knows my darkest secrets and is not afraid of me, but the novelty may soon wear off.

I go into my small kitchen and start preparing some food. My stomach is reminding me loudly that I haven't eaten for almost a day. She follows and stands in the doorway, watching me. She's making me nervous.

We eat in silence.

She takes my plate from my lap and goes into the kitchen. I follow her. She pours some warm water from the kettle over the plates. I take a rag and dry them, all unspeaking. This isn't what I would have chosen. But it is good not to have to wash the dishes.

'Artemus has the Stone,' I say to her. She looks up from the sink. She was far away, thinking about something else. 'You could go back to him and use it. At least you would be alive.'

She shakes her head. 'I won't be his prisoner. As long as the Keepers have the Stone I will not be free. I can't live like that.' She dries her hands on the rag I'm holding.

'Artemus has the Stone now,' I say, carefully emphasising the last word. 'But an ancient artefact like that is valuable. They run the risk that someone will steal it.'

She nods slowly. She understands. 'And without the Stone to control me, I am too dangerous to keep around. If I left, they wouldn't stop me. Thank you Garrett.' I look away. She says no more.

'It's rising within me again,' she says. 'If I am to reach the Keepers in time I need to go now. If the Stone is stolen, what should I do?'

'Come back here,' I say, before I can think better of it.

She smiles again and leaves. She knows there is no way to say goodbye that would not be awkward.

As the door closes behind her I remember the sorcerer's book. He wants her power too. I know it shouldn't worry me but I don't want him to have her.

I hastily gather my equipment and I follow her outside.


	5. Choice

The streets are dark now. I can see Caern crossing the square ahead of me. I don't want her to see me following, so I hang back. She's walking quickly, and it takes every ounce of my skill to keep her in sight and remain hidden from the Watch.

The people in the street give her a wide but polite berth. Keepers make common people like me nervous.

She runs down a back alley. Her pace has picked up now. I can see the faintest aura of blue around her. I chance a run across the well-lit road and down the alley after her.

I can see her halfway down. She's stopped, clutching at her head. The walls of the alley are tall and straight and a movement up there takes my eyes from her.

My heart beats faster. Directly above her head is a dark shape, perched on two window ledges across the alley. Time slows as I watch it unfurl eight long metal legs. It skitters down the wall straight for her.

It's a spider-construct, easily eight feet across. A fat black round body sprouts eight skeletal legs and two beady blue eyes. It snatches Caern off the floor with its front two legs. I hear her cry out weakly.

The spider-thing beats a tinny rhythm on the wall with its metal feet. It looks down at me. Its unmoving eyes seem triumphant. And it is gone, leaving curls of mist that quickly fade. I have a fire arrow in my hands that I don't remember drawing but it's too late to use it.

There's only one place she can be now. I turn in the direction of the Docks. Although my feet want to run I stay stealthy. I won't be much any good to her if the Watch get me.

I turn into the alley beside the sorcerer's house. Where the door was is now a featureless brick wall.

I remember the window above the altar. This is risky, too risky, but I don't want another death on my conscience. A water pipe runs up to the roof on the front of the building. It's wet and hard to grip but I start to climb anyway.

I haul myself over the ledge and crawl up the tiles. Two large closed shutters are ahead. I crouch next to them. The wooden slats are rotten and I pull two away so I can see in.

Caern is stretched on the altar. Her Keeper robe is gone and in its place is a trailing white robe. It too has taken on the blue aura. Her wrists and bare ankles are shackled in black metal, carved with gold sigils and runes. The sorcerer stands over her, reading from a book. I should have torched them when I had the chance. His constructs stand beside him, watching impassively.

She turns her head to the window, and though I know I am hidden I see recognition spark in her eyes. She concentrates. The glow waxes and wanes sharply. The shackles break, exploding into dust.

She floats upright. Her feet aren't touching the stone of the altar. The sorcerer squeals and falls back. His book falls with a dull thump.

She leaps toward the window and smashes the shutters. I duck. Splinters of wood rain down on my head. I almost avoid getting carried down the roof by her momentum but her hand closes on my shoulder. She pulls me with her.

We roll. At the bottom of the roof is a narrow ledge barely as wide as my shoulders. As the world spins I'm sickeningly sure we'll go over the edge but we stop as if we've hit a wall. All the air shoots out of me at the impact. I land on my back with her pinning me down. I struggle to breathe.

'It's happening,' she cries. 'You have to kill me now!'

I open my mouth to speak, but a roar from above cuts me off. The sorcerer appears at the window. He's enraged and I can see the fear in his eyes that he might lose his prize. Caern snaps her head around and glares at him. There's an animal cast to her eyes. She throws out a hand, palm facing toward him and fingers splayed. The sorcerer is engulfed in flames. He burns so brightly he leaves a white afterimage on my eye. When I blink it away, nothing is left of him but ash.

'Artemus has the Stone,' I say stupidly.

'It's too late,' she snaps. 'Even if I had it in my hands now it would be too late. Please, Garrett.' She stands, freeing me to stand too. I try not to look down. It's a long way to the street.

I don't want to do it.

She takes me dagger and presses it into my hands. 'Please!' She's crying, tears running freely down her cheeks. 'Before it's too late!' I can see the blue glow getting stronger around her until it forms a halo of light. A double image of her flickers, larger than she is. Caern stands at its centre, pleading.

I stand frozen, dagger in my numb fingers.

She can see I'm not going to do it. She puts a soft hand on my cheek and pushes herself into my mind. She lets me feel the full force of her emotion, her fear of dying and taking other people with her, her fear of being imprisoned. Now more than ever she doesn't want to let go of life. She tries to force my hand and it rises at her command, but I force it down. I won't let her take control.

It begins to rain heavily. Warm water runs down my face. My vision blurs and I blink hard.

'If you don't do it, you'll die too,' she says. She's still in my head and I hear the sly thought she's put into those words. She knows me too well now. Those should be reasons enough for me. I pull her close, hugging her tightly. For two heartbeats we stand there. I steel myself.

But it's over so quickly. I raise the dagger and stab her in the spine at the base of her neck. Blood spreads down her wet white dress. She goes limp in my arms. He knees buckle and she slips from my grasp, falling slowly down to the street. I am unable to tear my eyes away. As she lands the blue glow vanishes as if it had never been. She is just another body on the streets of the Docks.

I climb down the pipe again. Her body is sprawled across the wet cobbles. Her blood mingles with rainwater. Her gown is plastered to her skin.

Her head is tilted sideways, looking away from me. I can see the hilt of my dagger beneath her wet hair. I bend down, touch the leather binding, but take my hand back.

I leave it buried in her

I walk away.


	6. Epilogue

The armourer looked up as the door opened. A stranger entered. Wind gusted in behind him, spraying rainwater over the floor.

'We're closed, friend,' he said. 'Be open tomorrow from nine.'

'I need something now. It won't take long.' The man's voice was low and strained.

'Well…'

'I can pay.' He tossed a heavy purse onto the desk.

'That's changes things,' grinned the armourer. 'How can I help you?'

'I need a sword.'

'Very good. Right this way.' The armourer led the stranger into the storeroom. He held up a torch, revealing crates packed with straw. Racks of weapons lined the walls.

He picked up a fine slender sword, hefted its weight. 'How about this? Good balance, fine bound hilt. Not heavy. What sort of work do you need it for?'

The stranger did not answer. He picked up a sword from the nearest crate and lifted it.

'My apprentice made that,' said the armourer. 'It's a good start, but it's not really for sale. Too heavy, and the balance is wrong. Can't even get the binding to go smooth on the hilt.'

'This is perfect,' said the stranger.

'Why?' asked the armourer, confused. Why would anybody want such a poor weapon when they could have one of his finest swords?

The stranger smiled. One eye glittered green in the torchlight.

'To remind me never to use it,' he said.


End file.
